


Enough For Now

by perdiccas



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Barebacking, F/M, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, Porn, Rare Pairing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-05
Updated: 2009-06-05
Packaged: 2017-10-02 10:48:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perdiccas/pseuds/perdiccas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Claire just wants to remember what it is to feel; Luke would give anything to forget.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enough For Now

**Author's Note:**

> Luke and Claire are both 17.

Luke doesn’t mean to spy, he really doesn’t. But when he passes Claire’s door and through the crack he sees her, all dolled up in red and white, he stops without thinking and stares. Her cheerleading skirt is short, resting high on her thighs and skating just under the curve of her ass. The top is tight and hugs her chest. She’s staring at her own reflection, and in the mirror, Luke can see her high school logo stained with blood.

When Claire catches his eye, she shrieks like she’s caught him peeping with his hand down his pants. Instead of running away, he rushes in and shuts the door behind him.

“Get out!” she spits, folding her arms over her chest and only partly hiding the rusty red of the faded blood.

But he can’t leave, not yet, not without explaining. Her dad scares him shitless and Luke knows that if it comes to her word or his, he’ll be out on his ass and out of second chances.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean anything by it.” He holds up his hands in surrender but it doesn’t shift her scowl.

“Just because my dad’s letting you stay here doesn’t mean anyone wants you here!” Claire walks towards him as she talks. Luke backs up until he’s pressed against the door and she’s glaring up at him, close enough that Luke can feel the heat from her body warming the length of his.

“I know,” he says softly. He tries to shrug and turn away, to leave her to _whatever_, but she grabs his arm.

“Wait. I didn’t mean…” She rubs her eyes with the back of her hand, her words trailing off into a shrug that mimics Luke’s own.

Luke stares at her, at the tiny red cheerleader outfit and the pompoms on her bed. His eyes can’t leave the red gash where the fabric should be a pristine white. “What’re you doing?”

“Trying to remember.”

He doesn’t ask, ‘what?’ like he wants to, biting his tongue to keep this unexpected peace. With her perfect white smile and healthy golden skin, she looks the part but this isn’t her. The girl Luke knows is angry; there’s a bruise the span of her fist on Luke’s ribs that’s taught him to think twice before he makes a dirty joke at her expense. Luke can’t imagine her shouting, “Go, Team! Go!”

He wonders why she has that outfit and what happened when she wore it.

Luke walks up behind her, looking over her shoulder at their reflection in the mirror. He snakes an arm around her and tracing the bloodstain with his fingers.

“Did it hurt?”

“I don’t know anymore.”

He can feel her chest as it rises and falls; in the glass her sad eyes meet his but he doesn’t understand.

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“No!” Claire rounds on him furiously. “He took it away and it wasn’t his to take.”

Luke doesn’t have to ask to know who _he_ is. Claire touches her hand to her forehead.

“The worst pain I’ve ever felt,” she whispers. “And I can’t remember what that was like.”

Luke doesn’t mean to snort but he does. His body _aches_; old bruises where Sylar slammed him to a wall, new bruises where Bennet took him down. He’s black and blue all over, his skin a brutal web of scars and scabs. “I wish I could forget.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Claire snaps.

“Neither do you!”

The more annoyed he gets, the hotter he feels inside, where the microwaves that grow in him are pulsing. Luke would give _anything_ to have her problems: too many people to worry about him, too many people who care. He has to clench his fists to stop himself from nuking her because it isn’t worth getting kicked out if he can’t hurt her before he goes.

“Just forget it,” Luke mutters. “You’ll never understand.”

He tries to shoulder past her, but something flashes in her eyes and she pushes him at his chest, _shoves_ him, until he stumbles backwards and his knees catch at the edge of her bed. He falls down on his back, bouncing on her girly pink comforter.

"Hey!" he yelps and then he gasps in understanding, because Claire is crawling over him, her tiny red skirt hitching up as she straddles him.

Luke cants up to kiss her, but she threads her fingers through his hair and pulls hard enough to make him hiss. She holds him down against the pillows, biting and sucking at his neck. Luke slides his hands under her top, rocking his hips as she grinds down onto him. Her inner thighs are warm and soft against his hips where his t-shirt has ridden up. In seconds he's gone from spitting mad to achingly hard; his cock strains against the fly of his jeans and even through the thick denim, Luke swears he can feel the heat of her against his dick. He palms Claire's breasts through the thin lace of her bra, testing their weight and squeezing lightly until he hears her groan.

Then she's sitting up and pulling off that bloodstained, ragged top. It's a flash of red that covers her face, and then she's shaking out her hair, long and blonde and prom queen perfect; she's everything Luke's always wanted but never got. He smoothes his hands up her sides, feeling the rise and fall of her chest, watching the subtle sway of her breasts. He fumbles with the clasp of her bra, grinning up her when it comes unsnapped on the second pass.

Luke holds his breath as he pulls her bra away, slipping the straps from her shoulders gently, exposing the milk-white skin of her breasts with trembling hands. He licks his lips as he cups her breasts, each fitting perfectly into the cradle of his palm. He rubs his thumbs over the rose-petal pink of her nipples, teasing them to hardened points. And now, _he's_ harder than he's ever been before because this is better than any porno ever made it seem; his own barely legal cheerleader with her ass in his lap and her hips working in tight little circles that have his balls throbbing with want.

"_Claire_," he moans, half sitting as he pulls her closer. He tilts his chin before he thinks, lust-dazed eyes only seeing the frown that mars her Barbie-pretty face when it's almost too late. He catches himself and angles his head to the side, kissing her jaw line and not her lips.

Claire gives a shuddery moan, her back relaxing as she grinds down harder. Short nails rake through his hair and urge him down, pulling him tight to her chest as Claire guides his mouth to her breasts.

"Please," she whispers, nearly-unheard, as Luke's lips latch to one hard nipple.

"Yes," she groans as he sucks and nibbles, one hand tangled in that perfect, long, blonde hair and the other kneading her breast.

And when he kisses his way up the centre line of her chest, turning his face to kiss one breast and then the other, and he pulls too hard on his handful of hair, _that's_ when she finally breathes his name.

Her "_Luke_" intermingles with his "_Oh God_" and the roll of her hips against him.

"Shit!"

Luke collapses back on the bed, face flushed as bright red as the skirt that's rucked up 'round her hips.

"Did you just...?"

She looks at him with wide, shocked eyes and he thinks that twitch at the corner of her mouth is Claire trying not to laugh at him. He wants to roll off the bed and slink away in shame, but she's still sitting on him, still topless, with her skin still glistening slick from his kisses. And even after embarrassing himself so completely, his traitorous cock still throbs at the sight.

Claire reaches down between them, feeling the front of his jeans in that place where she's pressed to him, and Luke growls at the cooling slickness caught in his underwear but it doesn't make her stop. Before he can say no, one slender hand worms under his waistband and out again, her fingers now wet with Luke's spunk.

"Sorry," he groans but she isn't listening, her attention caught by his come as she rubs it between her fingers. For a moment, Luke flushes harder, half-expecting her to make him eat it, to make him suck her fingers clean like Sylar would have done and rub his nose in the mess he's made. But her hips only start to rock back and forth again until Luke has to grit his teeth at the chafe of wet cotton on his oversensitive dick. She leans in close to breathe in Luke's scent on her skin and wipes her hand on the front of her skirt. Luke's spunk is a slick smear that stains the red.

Finally, she looks at him, eyes still heavy lidded, but uncertain now. She shivers slightly, goose pimples rising on her skin, nipples going even harder without Luke's hands on her to keep her warm.

"Sorry," Luke mutters.

"S'okay," she says, smiling sadly, _pityingly_ as she shifts off of him and lies down beside him.

She moves to tug down her skirt but Luke rolls onto his side, one hand curling 'round her thigh so that his index finger fits to the groove where her leg meets her groin. The leg-elastic of her plain white panties is pressed against his skin.

"D'you want me to?" He sweeps the pad of his finger between her legs, over the damp gusset of her underwear, tracing the outline of her lips through the stark white cotton. He brushes over the front of her pussy, at the top of her slit, pressing a little harder now and she gasps. He rubs at that spot again, over and over to hear her moan, and when he feels down between her legs again, her panties are now soaked through.

"Do you want me?" Luke insists.

"I want this," she says, looking past him, over his shoulder, as she covers his hand with hers and nudges his finger under the elastic of her panties to touch her, skin to skin.

Luke's watched _a lot_ of porn, but no amount of watching porn compares to the feel of her pussy under his fingers. She's hot and _wet_, and Luke realises that he hasn't really known what that means until now, when her juices are slippery under his touch, and his fingertips are gliding slickly over her folds.

Claire squirms, one small hand curling around his upper arm and the other pushing at her skirt. "_Please_."

But Luke ignores her, too enthralled by what's before him. He simply shoves aside the narrow, sodden scrap of fabric until it's snug against her leg and there's nothing between him and her. He shifts until he's settled between her spread thighs and her cunt is right _there_, her flesh hot and puffy pink with her arousal, slick juices sliding from her to drip to the bed below. Her dark blonde hair is neatly trimmed and barely there. Luke brushes his fingers over it, surprised that it can feel both coarse and soft at once.

He slides his fingertip between her lips, tracing down one side and up the other, his short nails dragging lightly over her thinner, inner folds that stand slightly proud of her pussy. He takes the same path twice and then once more, his skin slicker each time, her begging growing more desperate with each pass.

And then, finally, finally, "_Luke_".

He runs his finger up the centre of her cunt and settles it against her clit. For a moment he simply holds it there, watching her face as she bites her lips, her cheeks and chest flushed as she pants, breasts bouncing gently with her every gasp. Then she grinds her pussy up into him, so that her clit skids under her fingers and she gives a wild groan.

"C'mon," Claire says. "Haven't you ever touched a girl before?"

And maybe she's only teasing, trying to spur him on, but Luke hasn't, and the cold, damp slick in his jeans is suddenly all he can feel. His face burns hot when he hears Claire's, "Oh."

Then, both of her slim hands are framing his face as he tries to pull away, to end this before he fucks it up again. Now, it's Luke that won't meet her eyes, even when her lips are a breath from his.

"It's okay," she murmurs.

"Luke," she says, leaning close enough that he can feel her lips move as she speaks. "It's okay."

He looks at her and shrugs, cheeks still red but not so hot. She kisses the corner of his mouth and maybe that's enough.

"Here." Claire lies back down and shucks her skirt, a shimmer of red that’s gone as it tumbles over the side of the bed. Claire tugs gently at his clothes until Luke strips too. She stares at his cock, heavy and still mostly hard until Luke touches her thigh and her eyes snap back to his face. He smirks when she needs a second to clear her throat, flicking her long hair back from where it's fallen forward to tickle her breasts.

"Here," Claire says again. She spreads her legs and he takes his place between them. She reaches down and Luke nearly comes again when she slides her fingers along her slit, pulling her pussy open to him. "Like this."

She runs one finger down along her cunt to slick it and then back up to circle her clit. Luke's fingers follow, helping to spread her wide as she starts to rub her clit, first from side to side and then in tight, quick circles. When she dips back down to pull more wetness over her delicate skin, Luke takes over, caressing her with the same rhythm she used to touch herself.

"Harder."

Luke presses down harder, watching her bottom lip blanch as she catches it between her teeth, her eyes fluttering shut as Luke feels her clit throb beneath his fingers. Then, her fingers are back, pushing his away. For a moment he falters, thinking he isn't good enough to get Claire off.

But she breathes, "I need you, Luke," and guides his hand down lower until he presses one finger inside her.

"More."

He tries to fit a second finger in beside the first, but even so wet, she's tight and he can't seem to fit.

"I--" he starts.

"S'okay," Claire says. "Push harder."

He hesitates for a moment.

"You can't hurt me," she promises.

Luke swallows dryly and then stretches out over her. Her breath is hot and sweet against his mouth; he kisses her cheek and she kisses his, and he pushes a second finger inside.

Though Claire doesn't flinch, Luke still groans, "I'm sorry," when the resistance finally gives. He can feel her hymen trying to heal around his fingers.

He pumps his fingers in and out, trying to match the tempo of her hips as she pushes back against him. Then, with slick, slick fingers, she guides his thumb to her clit and her own wet hand comes up to fist in his hair.

Luke strokes her clit how she’s taught him and fucks her with his hand as she holds him close, her lips at his ear, each gasping moan she gives shivering through him. He feels her pussy start to clench and he presses harder with his thumb, rubbing quicker and quicker in tighter circles.

“_Luke!_”

Claire clamps down around, her inner walls holding him tight. Luke’s hips buck and he comes again, hot spunk striping her thigh.

“Luke,” she says again, brushing her lips over his.


End file.
